


Firefly Waltz

by vanitaslaughing



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Altissia (Final Fantasy XV), Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15692406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/pseuds/vanitaslaughing
Summary: More phantasms shifted into reality, and the sparks intensified. She so desperately wanted to see and hear what was going on over there, but the invisible wall that blocked her from getting over there and hearing a single thing being said remained. For a split second it felt like something was starting to move, she felt the ebb and flow of powers that were not supposed to be in mortal hands.





	Firefly Waltz

It was the call of darkness that beckoned her forth once again. First it had been her brother, whose powers were so similar to hers but dormant, never awakening. His blood would never sear the way hers had, his voice would never soothe the masses and appease the gods. It had been his despair, his resignation, that had called her forth – and for once, just this once, she wished that he could have been spared all this agony.

Then it had all fallen silent again. First it had been the dormant powers of the Chosen and her burning desire to speak to him, then her brother’s dormant and familiar powers.

Now it was darkness, luring her from the corner of reality that she watched the world from, for even in death the Oracle was not allowed rest. Her brother had been right that she would face this with a smile on her face – another day perhaps. She hadn’t really been given a chance to forget about the agonising pain that dying had brought with it, had not forgotten the way the Archaean had answered her call in the last moment, the way he had told her that her time was up regardless and this was the last gift he could give her.

But this darkness poisoned her mind, the tranquillity of this quiet corner of reality. Seeped through every non-existent pore in her body. But she couldn’t see beyond the veil. Whatever was going on, she could not see it; for the dead could not see. Could not speak. For a split second she felt a familiar flare of energy, then it fizzled out before she realised what it was. For a split moment, her bloodline’s powers tried to protect her brother, but as usual they did not answer him.

For a split moment she saw the glint of white steel.

For a split moment she _heard_ that agonised scream of someone very much alive.

It all happened faster than she could comprehend from her quiet corner somewhere between the world of the living and the silence of the beyond. A soul not allowed to rest much like this man standing on the Altar of the Tidemother; though she was not going to be forced back into the world of the living over and over and over again, endlessly, for all eternity until someone came along to free her from this burden. She had promised him rest; he had answered her with a smack across the face even though she was already bleeding, her insides were already revolting, and her body was already giving in. The Accursed did not react kindly to being promised things that not even the gods would give him, she had learned.

By the gods, she wanted to see what was going on. So very, very desperately wanted to know what was happening. It reminded her of a city fallen and falling, of soldiers fighting for her rather than with her even though they owed her no allegiance, of that pained grin--

Reality shifted, violently so.

It was worse than dying, being ripped from that peaceful little corner where everything only came by muffled.

All of a sudden there was the rain again, the soot and ash and sparks that soared through the air in the aftermath of the Tidemother’s Trial. This was the Altar of the Tidemother again, the place that had taken such a hideous beating. A feeble splash of white colour told her where her brother had fallen not too long ago, and she could only pray that he was still alive. It was not like destiny had kinder things in store for him, but she really, truly, wanted him to be alive. She knew that wishing him happiness was for naught – for that, he loved her too much, had wanted to save her against all odds too much.

She was about to turn her face towards the pulsating infection that was the darkness on the Altar of the Tidemother, the power that did her in rather than her own body failing her, but something made her ignore it. Instead she turned towards another point of the Altar.

Sparks flew up into the skies like a bunch of disturbed fireflies like the ones she and her brother had tried to catch when they were younger. Whatever was going on there, she suddenly felt like she had walked into a wall of raw power, of something that should not be in the hands of a human like the Hand of the King.

And all of a sudden she felt herself standing in Insomnia again. Not as Oracle Lunafreya who had given her life for the planet, but rather as Princess Lunafreya who was trying to protect the soldier who had been injured for her sake. Within a split second she saw that magical shield manifest between her and the sword that was descending upon her, the sword that she had seen take the life of King Regis not too long ago.

She was fairly certain that there was a conversation going on. Something separated them from her; those phantasms that rose around the Altar of the Tidemother to judge the man who had dared to wear the Ring of the Lucii, tool for the deliverance that Eos so desperately waited for. She had seen her brother effectively lose his arm for that, had seen another man burn alive for the crime of slipping on that which belonged to the royal blood of Lucis and the royal blood of Lucis alone. Something she had knowingly talked him into, the fatal outcome her desire from the beginning – but she herself had never worn the ring, had no idea what happened after one put it on that decided their fate. The voices were muffled, filtered through whatever veil separated her personal hellish non-existence from theirs. But there was something amongst these apparitions that seemingly did not belong. Something that danced between the sparks of flame that were starting to flutter up and about like living beings. She put her hands on her ears, smacked her own face to get rid of the horrible cloud that had fallen over her mind.

This was important. This was _familiar._

She had seen that before, she realised with a jolt of terror. Not because of herself; she had not slipped on the Ring of the Lucii. But she felt like something monumental had taken place, had seen strange things for a split second as she tried to shield Nyx Ulric with her own body. That man who had treated her like a living being, higher in station than him and someone he had been sworn to protect, but still like someone with thoughts and her own mind instead of just the demure and gentle Oracle Lunafreya. The same demure and gentle Oracle Lunafreya who had given her life upon the Altar of the Tidemother instead of the Princess Luna who had been assassinated by the Accursed who was also the Chancellor of Niflheim.

More phantasms shifted into reality, and the sparks intensified. She so desperately wanted to see and hear what was going on over there, but the invisible wall that blocked her from getting over there and hearing a single thing being said remained. For a split second it felt like something was starting to move, she felt the ebb and flow of powers that were not supposed to be in mortal hands.

A scream split the deafening silence she had been in since this whole ordeal began. Her brother was still unconscious on the wet stone. Noctis was still unconscious but unharmed.

That ear-splitting and heart-wrenching screech happened at the same time as the phantasms dispersed like dust in the wind; she felt the wall vanish underneath her hands.

She was still neither here nor there, but she could see what was going on. Flickers of light, showers of sparks. But since she could not interfere with the living, all she could do in this very moment was sit on the ground next to her brother. The only person whose powers would have allowed him to see her.

But he couldn’t. She couldn’t even wipe away that thin line of blood that had rolled out of his nose – she was shocked that he was not injured worse after taking such a blow. For a moment she felt the flare of powers that she was by now familiar with. The Ring of the Lucii, responding to someone it was not supposed to respond to; a right given to two people over the course of history, both alive in the same century. If she were the Accursed, she would be _furious._ But if the man was, he definitely did not show as he closed the distance between him and the king’s advisor.

That was the moment she saw another person at the altar. Just as she was sitting beside her brother, he was sitting beside the fallen king, ash and soot all but dancing around him as he put a hand on the unconscious man’s back. Their eyes met for a moment, and before she could stop herself, she was on her feet. There wasn’t anything she could do for the living. Those two would remain unconscious, oblivious to the spike of energy that had once been Ignis Scientia, oblivious to the struggle between him and the Chancellor. There was no way he was going to win. All she could do was pray that the Accursed would let him live; because losing yet another person without being able to do anything about it would break the Chosen completely. Perhaps the gods would let this foolish man live.

Another foolish man they had not let live.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, princess.”

They stood face to face now, barely any space between them. But he looked like he would turn into a cloud of ash at a moment’s notice, just as she must look like a creature released from the deep, about to get pulled back in by the deep. She doubted that in this limbo they were stuck in they could even touch.

“I should be the one saying this.”

He cracked a smile at her; quite literally cracked. By the gods, he did look like he was about to go up in flames all over again. She had not seen the end of that fight, but the fact that he never caught up with her – she did not doubt for a second that he would have completely ignored his best friend and gone right after her – told her that he was dead and done.

Much like the soot and ash around him, something about him remained rather off. One hand, completely turned to cracks of burnt skin and soot, shone vaguely. The hand he had slammed the ring onto, the hand he removed it from to hand it to her to silently tell her that what the late king wanted of her would remain her duty no matter what. Deliver the ring to Noctis.

“Oh? You’d be callin’ me princess then?”

Her hesitation washed away, and she was surprised when she felt that he was solid despite the looks of it. He did not immediately catch fire, he did not turn into a heap of ash to be blown away by the harsh winds that buffeted the Altar of the Tidemother. It was just a hand against his shoulder, a small shove, but it felt more solid than when her hands brushed over her brother’s face. Felt more real than saying farewell to Noctis had been.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Much to her horror, he seemed to vanish for a second. For a heartbeat he was gone, and his smile froze on his lips. He turned vaguely, threw a look at the fight going on behind them. She also went to take a look, saw a blast of ice and thunder wipe out several machines but barely missed the Accursed.

He put her hands on her face and gently made her look away from that scene and at him.

“Princess. There’s so many things I want to say right now, but I’m afraid we’re not gonna have much more time.”

A time limit. That was what the Ring of the Lucii demanded of those who put it on without being of royal blood, she started to realise. Whatever time limit they had given the hand of the king, it was going to run out before long.

And with the powers of the ring went those who had used it in the past. Including him, even if it had only been for half a night.

“So let me just ask you one question. Just one.”

There were a million things he could have asked of her. Why she had not run when she could have. Why she had forsaken her own life when she could have saved it rather than saving the Chosen. She was fully prepared to tell him what the duty of an Oracle was, that her life meant nothing in the grand design of things. That this was a destiny she could not have outrun no matter how much she wanted to.

Instead he bowed, offered her a hand.

“May I have this dance?”

She blinked. Fire flashed upwards into the sky, and rain fell from it. Two elements that never got along, but this time it seemed like they were entwined in a dance. It was with a shock that she realised they did look like they belonged onto a stage play about fire and water – he was the ghastly remnant of the ring’s all-consuming fire, and she was what the deep had spat back out, drenched and quivering and all too dead to be real. Two spectres stuck between here and there; barred from death but also not alive. They would not be leaving this strange plane in-between for quite a while – the Oracle’s duty would come to an end when the Chosen took his rightful place, and he was bound to the Ring of the Lucii until its powers exhausted themselves to support the Chosen. They would not be meeting again until that day.

She almost gingerly took his hand. “I should be denying you this pleasure, Nyx Ulric. Wasn’t your duty to see me to Altissia?”

He laughed – his burnt hand felt like cracked, dry earth, but it was reassuring to have him back for even just a moment. Those few days in Insomnia had not made them friends like she and Noctis were, and she undeniably loved him still; but she also loved the Glaive. This man who saw through the Oracle facade and saw the princess standing behind it.

“Hey, I mean. You’re here. I’m here. Whether we travelled together in the end or not, does that really matter?”

Just a few steps. She was already seeing more soot and ash rise upwards into the skies, could feel the power emanating from the Ring of the Lucii flicker as it left. There wasn’t even any music except for that steady thrum of rain hitting the Altar of the Tidemother; they both ignored the sound of fighting behind them. Behind them her brother, in front of them the fallen Chosen and even further ahead the advisor and the Accursed; all of them blind to what was going on.

“I suppose not,” she breathed out before furrowing her eyebrows. “Your friend, does he--”

“He’s got a hunch. Denial’s a stage of grief too, princess.”

The soot and ash that rose was slowly catching fire all over again. The cracks on his skin started burning bright as if the fire had been rekindled somehow, and they stopped dead in the middle of the motion. A slow waltz, interrupted as suddenly the overwhelming energy vanished slowly, bit by bit. Somewhere in the distance she heard a desperate gasp for breath, the sound of someone nearly falling over as the power left them defenceless.

All Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, late Oracle and princess did in that moment, was fasten her grip on the man of the Kingsglaive. But even just that small motion sent a shower of sparks up into the air, flitting about like fireflies once again. She didn’t want this moment to end, but she knew better than to hold onto small moments of reprieve, perhaps even happiness. That was not her destiny, and it was not his either.

He leaned forwards slowly, his chapped lips brushing her cheek. Gods, he even felt like he was about to go up in flames, and a shiver went down her spine.

“I hope you can spare me another few minutes of your time when we meet next. I’d love to dance with the bride at her wonderful wedding.”

And with that, he vanished. Where there had been a man not a second ago, nothing but a trace of warmth and more embers than she had ever seen in her life remained. She watched them vanish into the dark, stormy skies, the rain not hitting her as she stood there. She barely registered the way the advisor dragged himself back to this place, only realised that he was there when he collapsed.

She heard a soft noise behind her, and for a split moment she and her brother were staring at one another.

All she could offer him was one of the smiles he claimed she would always be wearing, and then she knew her moment was over just as Nyx Ulric’s had been. Her duty was to do as the prophecy demanded, and his duty was to follow the Ring of the Lucii, to lend it his power when its time came. He was not officially part of it, but she knew that he would be there on the day that dawn would break, ready to help the Chosen and the Oracle do their duty.

Her brother’s face darkened a little and then he carried on. Walked onwards. She so desperately wanted to walk beside him, wanted to pick up the Ring of the Lucii and whisper that she would gladly do as Nyx wanted to.

But for now, she vanished like a feather carried away by the storm. Quietly, not able to choose her own path.


End file.
